Her Eyes Say She Likes You - Chapter 2
Chapter 2: Grape-Flavored Clouds
Dong Yan was applying the highlight to the corner of the new protagonist’s eye when she saw the WeChat message about “stars and moon being my responsibility.” Her pen tip paused, and the tiny star almost slipped out of the eye socket.
She looked at the person on the screen with the cartoon wolf avatar and the following kitten shooting hearts. It was difficult to connect the two.
Her finger hovered over the keyboard for a moment before she replied:
[Eyes]: Okay. Shall we meet tomorrow at three in the afternoon at ‘Half-Sugar Coffee’ on the corner? To discuss the new serialization.
She sent a location pin.
The reply was nearly instant.
[Only Jia]: Copy that! I will bring my freshest brainwaves and be on time! (Dog standing at attention emoji.jpg)
Dong Yan put down her phone and gently exhaled, looking at the protagonist’s eyes on the drawing board, which finally looked vibrant. This new editor, it seemed… was really different.
…
At two-fifty in the afternoon the next day.
Wei Jia stood at the entrance of “Half-Sugar Coffee” and took a deep breath.
She skipped the flashy style today and chose a charcoal-gray, loose-fitting designer shirt, paired with black utility pants and short boots. Her wolf-tail haircut was meticulously styled with hairspray into casual layers, and she wore a pair of plain black-rimmed glasses—all in an effort to create a first impression of “I look reliable yet still maintain individuality.”
She pushed the door open, and her gaze only swept halfway around before precisely locking onto the corner table by the window.
A woman in a cream-colored knit dress sat there, looking down at an open sketchpad. The afternoon sun filtered through the glass, coating her soft hair and slender eyelashes with a fuzzy, golden edge.
It was Dong Yan. The living, breathing Teacher Eyes, who was gentler and more beautiful than in any photo or video.
Wei Jia felt her heartbeat was a little too loud in the quiet cafe. She walked over and stopped beside the table.
“Teacher Eyes?” She kept her voice lower than usual, with deliberately restrained politeness.
Dong Yan looked up at the sound.
In that moment, Wei Jia felt as if she had been thrown into a huge, soft piece of amber, where everything around her slowed down. She saw those eyes—the gentle, all-encompassing eyes she had seen countless times online—now clearly reflecting her own image.
“Editor Only Jia?” Dong Yan closed the sketchpad and smiled slightly, gesturing for her to sit down. “Hello, I’m Dong Yan.”
“Wei Jia,” she unconsciously gave her real name, sitting down opposite Dong Yan, her posture ramrod straight. “Teacher’s eyes… are even more beautiful than in your drawings.”
The compliment slipped out, unedited and direct.
Dong Yan seemed surprised for a moment, then smiled sweetly: “Thank you. What would you like to drink? Their sea salt latte is quite good.”
“Let me see,” Wei Jia picked up the menu, but her eyes weren’t on the words at all. She looked up at the bright blue sky outside the window and suddenly said, “Teacher, the clouds outside today taste like grapes.”
“…?” Dong Yan followed her gaze to the fluffy white clouds outside. A flash of confusion crossed her eyes but was quickly replaced by amusement. “Why?”
“Because,” Wei Jia turned back, her eyes behind the black-rimmed glasses shining astonishingly bright with the excitement of finding a co-frequency signal, “it’s perfect for drawing the scene in the third chapter of the new serialization, where the male and female leads first meet on the rooftop. The sunlight is sweet, the wind is minty, and the clouds are grape-flavored. Drawing it this way, even the sense of air will be the color of love.”
Dong Yan’s hand, holding the coffee cup, paused.
She looked at the editor across from her, who was seemingly dressed “more normally” than in her last Weibo photo, listening to her say the most whimsical things with the most earnest expression.
The strange thing was, she understood.
Not only did she understand, but she could even visualize the scene: a slightly tipsy, fruit-scented romance.
She lowered her head, gently stirring the coffee in her cup with a stirrer, and a shallow, knowing curve formed on her lips.
“Hmm,” she softly replied, looking up at Wei Jia with a gentle gaze, “Then, shall we order a… Grape Cloud Latte?”
The light in Wei Jia’s eyes flared up instantly, like a suddenly ignited galaxy.
“Yes!” She nodded vigorously, then remembered something, pulled out an exquisitely packaged small box from her large canvas bag, and pushed it across the table to Dong Yan, her tone carrying a hint of tentative caution, “Teacher, a welcome gift. They say eating this makes your lines particularly smooth.”
Dong Yan looked down—the box was printed with the logo of a famous, terribly expensive (important point) handmade Nama chocolate brand that was often out of stock.
It was the flavor she had casually mentioned wanting to try a few days ago in her social media circle.
She looked up again at the “abstract” editor sitting ramrod straight across from her, whose eyes held a mix of nervousness and anticipation.
Something inside her felt like it had been gently tickled by a feather.
She reached out and took the box, her fingertips lightly tracing the cool packaging paper.
“Thank you,” her voice carried a softness she didn’t realize was there, “Only Jia.”